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The vast majority of F1 superstars
tend to forget their humble origins.
Well, they shouldn't...
 AT
THE END OF JUNE, I went back to my roots. In my role as president of
Buckmore Park circuit, I dished out the prizes for the big kart meeting at
the track in Kent on which I first cut my teeth as a racing driver. It
makes me feel old. the place has been going almost as long as I've been
alive - the televised meeting was a celebration of the track's 35th year.
Like the vast majority of my fellow Fl drivers, I owe an awful lot to this
branch of the sport and it was good to see it prospering.
Karting brings you out of
yourself. I was very shy as a kid, and it brought me out of my shell. And you learn about
racing and the behaviour necessary for a professional career at a much earlier age. It's
essential experience.
When I first went to Buckmore I went as a boy scout, because of course
it's a scouting venue as well. I'd got hooked on karting on holiday and pestered Dad until
we got one, then I started running at Tilbury and Buckmore. I remember when it was just a
speedbowl, not the sophisticated set-up it is now. I was about nine at the time! Scouts
would turn up with funny, self-built karts, and I'd bring along my racing kart, a Sprint,
and thrash them. Then I started driving a thing called a Tarantella, and through that I
got to meet a guy called Bill Sisley, because he was selling spares. Dad and I met him at
Surbiton and he started helping us out. Bits and bobs to begin with, then maybe an engine
or two. I started driving one of his Kestrel karts.
Bill has built up Buckmore, and he's one of those people I always
recall fondly. He did so much to further my career. He helped me to win British
Championships and to compete in the junior World Championship in Luxembourg, and he gave
me the opportunities that helped me to leap up two or three performance levels. I ran
sixth that time, until the chain came off with two laps to go. And, I suppose, Bill helped
me to grow up, because as soon as I left school I went to work for him in Swanley. I used
to cycle 30 miles there and 30 back each day, from home in Romford. It was quite funny; as
this shy kid, I used to sell kart parts to people such as Andrea de Cesaris and Eddie
Cheever, who'd often drop in. Eventually, I'd drive the van, build the fun karts Bill was
producing, and, of course, race. It was Bill who got me my first Formula Ford drive too,
in a Royale RP26 via Terry Gray's dad, Vic.
Going back to Buckmore was a nice thing to do, a means of giving
something back. It's good to help out Bill when I can, even if that isn't often. Becky and
I both feel strongly that you should remember people who helped you out in the early days.
You might not see them too much, but you shouldn't forget. The cynics don't believe that
loyalty exists in the Fl paddock, but it's an unusual situation. Perhaps in my Lotus days
I stuck with the team the sport, too long. I signed a long-term contract out of loyalty,
and as the relationship ran into difficulties, it became very much a contractual situation
only. But Peter Collins played an instrumental role in my Fl career, and without him I
would never have got a ride at Benetton after my accident in 1988, or been rescued by
Lotus at the end of 1990. At Benetton, Peter went in to bat so strongly for me that
eventually it cost him his job, too. But part of the problem in Fl is that everything
changes so quickly that things can get Buckmore forgotten very quickly.
It's one of
the reasons I like doing the Johnny Herbert Karting Challenge for the SPARKS
charity at The Raceway in King's Cross each winter. It lets me put something
back into the sport, and I suppose it lets me feel that I'm being honest to
my roots. In F1 these days loyalty may be a luxury, but it's one that you're
better off embracing than denying yourself.
These GP Columns appeared exclusively in F1
Racing magazine every month.
The columns are reproduced by kind permission of the Editor, Matt Bishop.
With thanks to F1
Racing ©. All rights reserved.
This page prepared 26th June 1998. |
